


Eyes Gone Cold

by orphan_account



Category: The Odyssey - Homer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Telemachus could no longer bear the degradation of being fatherless, and of having his home swarmed by suitors looking to marry his apparently widowed mother? What if Athena's wisdom could not reach him? Not in earnest, not in full.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes Gone Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a spur of the moment drabble when I should really be studying for exams. Thanks to [redcat512](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redcat512) for encouraging me to post it at all!

Telemachus found himself tired and humiliated quite often over the years. Perhaps it was because his father was gone, and the land had no head, and what is a land without a king? What is a land without prestige? None can exist when the master has been gone for twenty long, arduous years. Twenty years that saw their vassals leave and join his father's rivals (because what is a land without a lord who can protect his underlings?).

And ten of those years saw the arrival of suitors, come to seduce and marry his mother, taking his father's land and riches with her. Land, riches, Penelope herself - but they had no need for her son. Almost a man, and almost a lord. And then there was the humiliation - because to them, Telemachus was no more than a servant boy, there to bring them undiluted wine, there to clean up their mess. Jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding, and throat aching with words that he should not say, Telemachus grew bitter. Frustrated. If once all he desired was Odysseus' return to his homeland, then now the only thing that could bring him joy was the thought of them - all of them - lying dead, bloodied, and _mutilated_ in the very hall that they feast in.

Sometimes, these vivid thoughts were accompanied by the apparition of a woman of irregular, asymmetrical beauty, and wearing an aegis of impossibly intricate design. She would stand still, and watch him, and he would watch her. And Telemachus would look down, and see blood that was not his own, and he would feel relief so overwhelming that he would drop to the floor and laugh. The woman tried to speak, tried to gesture to him, but he wouldn't see because he pointedly chose to ignore her.

But what is it for one hundred and eight men - one hundred and eight warriors, some of them war heroes, even - from across the Ionian Islands to cut down a boy, _almost a man_? What is it for them to reduce a person to a dead, bloodied and mutilated figure, lying in the hall of his home?

And in hindsight, maybe Telemachus should have listened to the Goddess of Wisdom after all.


End file.
